A Metrical History of England Or, Recollections, in Rhyme, Of some of the most prominent Features in our National Chronology, from the Landing of Julius Caesar to the Commencement of the Regency, in 1812. In Two Volumes ... By Thomas Dibdin |
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 | A Metrical History of England |  |
36
“Indeed, Sir, we are seven.”
Wordsworth.
Wordsworth.
“While undecided yet which part should fall,
“Which nation rise the glorious Lord of all.”
Creech's Lucretius.
“Which nation rise the glorious Lord of all.”
Creech's Lucretius.
THE HEPTARCHY.
Odd numbers are deem'd fortunate, we know,And yet, 'tis odd enough they should be so;
The graces, muses, with their threes and nines,
Were dear to Pagan reverend divines.
The number seven, too, a stand has made;
Seven wonders once the universe displayed;
Seven deadly sins, seven sacraments assist,
Seven sleepers, and my readers in the list;
Seven days each week;—on seven if longer dwelling,
'Twill cost me seven too many lines the telling.
Seven kingdoms once our little isle admitted,
Each with a king, and queen, and courtiers, fitted.
East Anglia, Mercia, Essex, Sussex, Kent,
Northumberland, and Wessex; each extent
Mark'd carefully, of course, by sovereign order,
To settle rates of postage on the border.
37
Who, in each court, wou'd undertake the task
Of Clement-Cottrellizing? sure, no dunce,
Six English embassies to name at once.
The Plenipo from Persia, when with us,
Could ne'er create more diplomatic fuss;
The newspaper, when things unkindly went,
Announces “The Ambassador from Kent—
“Having received a warm official note,
“Has left this country—in a Gravesend boat.”
“The Essex envoy, too, has turn'd his back,
“And quits the kingdom—in a neutral hack,
“Attended by a confidential friend,
“Whose passport goes no further than Mile-end.”
“Bold Sussex, in a ministerial rage,
“Departs to-morrow—in the Brighton stage!”
“While great East-Anglia, flouncing like a dragon,
“Has taken places in the Norwich waggon.”
Critics will smoke by this time, without doubt.
London and Essex both obey'd one king—
Agreed, grave sirs, and now the blunder's out,
Let my joke pass, and take your ample swing.
| A Metrical History of England | |